


Sadistic • Game of Thrones

by TheEmmaLife (orphan_account)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Death, Love, Psychopath, Sadism, psychotic, sadistic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-02-09
Packaged: 2018-09-23 01:31:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9634823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/TheEmmaLife
Summary: Lyarra Stark was sent south as a warden to the King when she was 5 years old. Raised in the pit of snakes, she quickly learnt the Game of Thrones, and was exceptionally good at it. Now, the Royal party is travelling to Winterfell to make Ned Stark hand of the King, and to join houses. But when your sister is promised to the one you love and tension rises, who's side would you choose? The people who birthed you or the people that raised you? And what if you are slowly turning into your loved one?ABANDONED© All Rights Reserved 2016





	1. It's Been a Long Time

I stared out the window in curiosity as we approached the castle I once called home. It had been many years since I left, I am now 14 namedays. I'm a year older than my sister Sansa, whom I never had gotten on well with, from what I can remember. The carriage had been a bumpy, unpleasant ride and it was nice to see some warmth up ahead. I had grown accustom to the southern climate, so the chill had been getting too me. Tommen had his head on my lap, fast asleep while Cersei fixed up Myrcella's hair. 

"Tommen," I said shaking him a little, "it's time to wake up. We've arrived." He grumbled something under his breath and sat up reluctantly. I fixed his blonde curls, that were sticking up in every direction, and flattened out his tunic. Cersei gave me a look of appreciation while she made herself look more glamorous than she already was. 

Cersei had become a mother to me, after my careless parents decided it would be fine to send their daughter off to the pit of snakes at only five namedays. But despite my hatred of them, it had payed off; not only did I have little birds whispering in my ear, I understood how to control people without them even knowing it and was an expert in playing the game of thrones. I also had almost every man in court in love with me. But no one ever asked for my hand in marriage because everyone assumed I would marry Joffrey, but I knew otherwise. Whispers told me that the King wants Joffrey to marry Sansa, because she wasn't a warden.  _Oh please, this is because I'm practically a Lannister._ But the King wants, the King gets. 

The carriage finally came to a halt, and the door swung open, making light pour into the carriage. Cersei stepped out first, followed by the little Prince and Princess. I took my queue, pulling my skirt up a little and stepped out of the carriage. I heard many gasps from around the courtyard, which did not surprise me. I was known for being incredibly beautiful, with dark brown wavy locks and  _abnormally_ blue eyes. I scanned around the courtyard, which was rather grey and dismal. 

I saw my mother and father giving me a loving look, which I certainly did not return. My eldest brother Robb was a full grown man now and certainly looked right for the heir to Winterfell. My younger siblings I had not yet met or were babes when I left. I particularly liked Arya, who looked like she didn't want to be there. But nothing was more satisfying than the look of jealousy on Sansa's face, who didn't like all the attention turning to me. But her face soon turned to admiration as she spotted Joffrey looking at her, with that smug satisfied face he makes when he's found a new  _toy_. After the King was introduced to the Starks, he made my father take him to visit his dead lover in the crypts, disrespecting Cersei once again. After Cersei had introduced herself, she motioned for me to step forward. I gave my mother and father a reluctant hug, which they happily returned, my mother with a tear in her eye.

"Robb," I said courteously, he responded by kissing my hand. I then moved onto Sansa, who was again, looking at me with a sour, jealous face. I leaned in a whispered in her ear,

"Jealousy doesn't suit you sister." She looked at me gobsmacked and I smirked, moving onto Arya, who was just a babe when I left. 

"One of my little birds told me you have quite some skill with a bow," I said smiling. Her eyes seemed to brighten up at the mention of it and she nodded her head enthusiastically. I then ruffled Bran and Rickon's hair, not sure what to say as neither of them I had met before. I turned around and walked back to Cersei, while locking eyes with Joffrey.

***

Myrcella and I were sharing a very large chamber, which the Septa decided to teach her stitching lessons in one day. Septa Mordane was commenting on how  _lovely_ Sansa's stitches were, when she noticed that I was correcting Myrcella.

"Do not correct the Princess!" she said angrily. Sansa and Jeyne Pool were giggling at me when I glared.

"I've been teaching Myrcella stitches since she was six, Septa Mordane. The Queen thought I was the only one worthy," I said smirking as their giggles died down. The Septa blushed in fury and embarrassment before insulting Arya's stitches, who then stormed out.

"Did you hear I may be engaged to the Prince?" said Sansa boasting loudly. My face remained emotionless;  _never let anything show_.

Joffrey was complicated. He liked to play with his  _toys_ , and my sister will soon be one of them. He used to think that I was one too, until he realised it was me playing with him, not the other way around. We soon began to understand each other in ways unimaginable. No matter what facade I wore he always saw through it, as did I.

"Did you hear that, sister?" pressed Sansa, who was desperately trying to make me feel jealous. 

"Indeed sister. I did hear about your betrothal, congratulations! Your Joffrey's new toy to play with," I replied smirking, wiping the smile off her face.

"Thank you for your support, sister," she replied, not sure whether I had been serious or not. 

"Oh, I was being sarcastic," I drawled. "And Sansa,"

"Yes?" she replied, pretending to have not heard my comment.

"If you dare call me sister again, I'll have you strangled in your sleep." The room quietened, everyone staring at me in disbelief. I then turned to Myrcella, my face turning melting into a warm smile.

"Come  _sister_ , we've spent enough time stitching. Cersei asked me to show you around today, there is much to see." Myrcella nodded her head in enthusiasm, linking arms with me as we exited the room, leaving everyone in shock.   
  
***

I had saved the the Godswood for last. No matter how much I disliked Winterfell, the Godswood was undoubtably beautiful - more so than the one in Kingslanding. Winter roses, blue as frost, in large bushes bloomed all year long. The weirwood tree was the largest tree I'd ever seen; with bark as white as snow and leaves like blood splatters all over the forest floor. The pond glistened in the sunlight, reflecting Myrcella and I's image so perfectly it was like we were staring into a mirror. 

"Why aren't you going to marry Joffrey?" asked the innocent ten year old. 

"What the King wants the King gets. The King wants Joffrey to marry Sansa, so Joffrey will marry Sansa," I explained. 

"But Joffrey  _loves_ you. Shouldn't he marry the one he loves?" asked Myrcella, confusion laced into her voice. 

"Life isn't like the tales and songs, sister. Very few get to marry the ones they love. Sansa may love Joffrey, but he hates her."

"You and Sansa both love Joffrey, but he only loves you," stated Myrcella.

"And that's why no matter how hard Sansa tries, Joffrey will always be _mine_."

***

"Lady Stark summons you to her chambers, milady," spoke a servant from outside of my door. I huffed in annoyance, having been interrupted while I read a very interesting book on the Targaryen conquest, but more so at the thought of seeing my pathetic excuse of a mother again. 

I marched down the hall, my height giving me an advantage when it came to looking down on people. I walked to my  _mother's_ chambers, where I rammed my hand on the door, asking for entrance.

"Come in," I heard her sickly sweet voice say from the other side of the door. I pushed it open with a bang, to find her and Sansa sitting before me.

"You called for me?" I asked frustrated, there are so many better things I could be doing right now...

"Yes I did, sit." I sat down reluctantly, staring out the window in boredom.

"Apparently you said some not so nice things to Sansa during her stitching lessons?" she said with authority. I chuckled at the thought of my sister's immaturity to go and 'tell on me'.

"She told me;  _'if you dare call me sister again, I'll have you strangled in your sleep',_ " said Sansa in a snobby tone. 

"Apologise for speaking to your sister like that," commanded my mother.

"She's not my sister."

"Enough of this nonsense -"

"She's not my sister. Myrcella is my sister," I snapped at her.

"That is not -"

"Just as Tommen and Joffrey are my brothers, and Jaime and Tyrion are my uncles," I continued on.

"You are a Stark, not a Lannister," snapped my mother.

"Three of them are Baratheons," I muttered. Well,  _supposed_  to be Baratheons. I had known of Cersei and Jamie's  _relationship_ for a long time now, but Cersei never cared because she knew I would never tell anyone about it.

"Besides the point! You are a Stark -"

"The moment I set foot in Kingslanding I became a Lannister, in every way but looks and title. The Lannister's are my family. They raised me, cared for me, loved me; a lot more than you have ever done. It's been a long time, things have changed. I care for my siblings who aren't a bitch like Sansa," Before she could reply, a knock on the door was heard.

"The Queen calls for Lady Lyarra," spoke a voice from the other side of the door. My smile brightened up, knowing that Cersei called me to save me from the people I used to call family. I turned to the woman who calls herself my mother, and the girl who calls herself my sister and spoke in a sickly sweet voice,

"Mother calls for me. Good day Sansa, Lady Stark."

***

The farewell feast was just as entertaining as the welcoming feast. The King played with some serving girls, while drunk northern men drunk and ate until they were fast asleep on the floor. As usual, Cersei and I stared down on them all from the Royal table, where she invited me to sit once again, trying to avoid talking with Lady Stark. Sansa was staring up in jealousy at the sight of me sitting next to the Queen, which I smirked at.

"Call Lady Sansa up here," ordered Cersei to a handmaiden. The handmaiden scuttled down to Sansa and whispered in her ear. Sansa straightened up her dress and walked with elegance over to the table,  _trying_  to impress Cersei.

"My Queen," she said curtsying.

"That's a lovely dress, did you make it yourself?" asked Cersei, feigning politeness.

"Yes, your grace. Thank you, your grace."

"I hear we are to share grandchildren," said Cersei, turning to Catelyn. Sansa blushed at what she thought was a complement. "Have you bleed yet?"

Sansa turned her head towards Catelyn before returning back to the Queen and shook her head in shame.

"Nothing to worry about little dove, you will in time. I'm surprised however; Lyarra already had by your age," she said proudly. Sansa's eyes widened before looking at her mother for help, who averted her eyes from Sansa in return. Sansa curtseyed and hurried back to her seat, avoiding the smug gaze I was giving her.

But it soon disappeared as I saw Joffrey staring at her; regardless of what he was thinking, I was pissed off.

"May I be excused?" I asked Cersei. She nodded, not taking her eyes of Robert and the whore he was fondling. I stood from the chair and headed out into the courtyard, the chilly winter air hitting my skin.

I saw two figures standing on the opposite side from me, one looking quite drunk, the other quite angry. The drunk was was clearly Tyrion, his height evident even from afar. The other was a boy my age, with dark curls and dark eyes, a very Stark look. I knew immediately this was Jon Snow, my bastard brother.

"Never forget what you are, the rest of the world will not. Wear it like armour and it can never be used against you," said Tyrion. This was the one thing Cersei and I disagreed on; Tyrion. I thought he was a brilliant and intelligent man, who was incredibly underestimated. Cersei's bad opinion of Tyrion was entirely due to the death of her mother in child birth, not something she should blame him for, but still does. Once Tyrion had left, I approached my sibling in curiosity.

"Jon. Haven't seen you for a long time," I stated, capturing his attention. 

"Lyarra," he replied. "Why are you so friendly with the Lannisters?"

"They raised me. They are my family. What else would you expect?"

"The Stark's are your family, not the Lannisters," he defended.

"Yes, the family who sent me away as a babe, to an unknown place full of secrets and lies. Don't think for one minute that just because you are a bastard, you are the least welcome of the family."

"But you're trueborn. You can marry a highborn, take a title and have land. Someone with your status could marry whoever they wanted," he insisted.

"You know nothing, Jon Snow." I stared into his dark eyes, seeing the purple flecks hidden in the darkness.  _'The Targaryens had purple eyes,'_ I remember my old septa telling me at lessons. Ned Stark may have had everybody else fooled, but not me.


	2. King's Road

I stood by my brother's bed, watching his comatose figure breathe in and out. The woman I used to call mother was glaring at me, as I stared with an emotionless face. It did hurt that Brandon, an innocent being, was  _thrown_ from the tower. But I was Lady Lyarra, the Lannister who wasn't a Lannister; I couldn't show weakness. 

Unfortunately, my brother was a victim of the Game of Thrones. He had caught Cersei and Jaime fooling around in the broken tower, and Jaime had pushed him out hoping he would die a painless death. But alas, it didn't quite work...

That is why I was giving Jaime silent treatment - though I still addressed him as the usual in front of others, or people would get suspicious. I was beyond appalled at his behaviour.  _Not for pushing Bran out the window, but getting caught in the first place._

I left the room, heading towards the carriage I would be travelling in on the way home. I was glad to leave, it was to cold for my liking here. I missed the hot sun on my skin I grew to love, the sweet smell of the Red Keep's garden and the beautiful architecture the hid the secrets and lies of the world. 

Unfortunately, I would have to share the carriage with my  _darling_ sister on the way back. I was going to make sure that she knew where her place was however, she will  _never_ be Cersei's daughter in law- even if that was her title. But then again, she would never be the Queen either. Her title may be Queen, people may address her as 'Your Grace', but the Queen is the woman who  _rules._ And that will be me, it is arguably already me right behind Cersei.

My thoughts were interrupted by the devil herself, Sansa Stark. Smiling brightly, raising her chin like she was better than everybody else as she so  _elegantly_ stepped inside the carriage. I was already sitting inside, across from Cersei who was looking as gorgeous as ever - far more regal than anyone else in the carriage. Myrcella was sitting by Cersei's side, Tommen by my side. Sansa sat by Myrcella, which was thankfully the furthest away from me. Soon after Arya slipped in slouching, grumbling and looking overall pissed off. I resisted a giggle at her behaviour, she was clearly not pleased to leave. 

I enjoyed Arya. She was  _real._ She loved her bastard brother more than her other siblings, she hated lady like activities, and would much rather be a knight. But alas, she was born a girl - cursed. We looked very alike. Sansa may of inherited the Tully look, but Arya and I were true Starks. Regardless of how much I hate the thought of actually being a  _Stark._

I often caught the Robert staring at me, with lust in his eyes. I knew why; because I looked almost exactly like my dead Aunt Lyanna. I'm pretty sure the only reason he hadn't tried to get his hands of me is because of my father. I knew the story of Cersei and Robert's wedding night, and it was not a pleasant one. 

Cersei hated me when I first arrived at Kingslanding. Robert always used to call me Lyanna, forgetting it was  _Lyarra,_ after my grandmother. But I bonded immediately with Joffrey, and grew to be like a twin sister to him. I think she grew to love me because I was almost exactly like her, attitude wise. Well, almost like her. I would  _never_ sleep with one of my brothers.

My attention was then captured by the carriage beginning to move. I stared outside, watching the castle fade away from my sight, the true chill of the north entering our carriage in the harsh wind, despite the protection of the carriage walls. Tommen soon hid under the furs of my coat, his summer skin didn't belong in this climate. Myrcella did the same to her mother, wanting to get home as soon as possible. 

After two weeks, the weather had become increasingly warm, almost as warm as the capital itself. We stopped at the Trident, setting up camp for a few nights as Robert wanted to relish over the place he killed the Dragon Prince, Rhaegar Targaryen. I always despised him for it, killing the Prince. Because deep down, many knew the truth to the tragic tale. My aunt Lyanna had to marry a man whore, but fell in love with a Prince who was already wed. She ran away with him, got knocked-up and ended up dying in the childbed after the birth of my so called 'bastard brother'. Jon was a year older than me, although we could pass as twins. I remember Lady Stark's reaction when she caught us playing together in the Godswood; she  _hated_ him. And I grew to hate her for it once I had left, and even more now I knew the truth.

So here I stood, alone by the Trident where Rhaegar's life was taken. Looking out across the shimmering water in a velvet blue dress with gold rope holding it together, simple yet elegant. I had removed my shoes, my feet sinking into the sand on the bank of the river, little ripples of water hit the bank wetting my feet. Arya and the Butcher's boy Mycha were pretending to fight further down the river, the sound of sticks hitting each other could be heard in the distance. 

But my peace and quiet was interrupted by giggling coming from across the meadow that lead to the river. I looked behind me to see Joffrey and Sansa walking down the pathway. He was clearly trying to charm her, and she seemed to be enjoying it until I locked eyes with Joffrey, who's fake laughter died quickly as his eyes widened at me, as though he had seen a goddess. I quickly turned my head away and back to the river, just in time to see my sister turning her head to see what he was looking at. Even without seeing her I could feel her jealous eyes on my tall figure from across the field. It's time she learned that Joffrey was a monster, but a monster who only loved me.


	3. Jealousy

Ser Loras gave the red rose to Sansa, but I didn't miss the look he gave Renly before riding off to face the Mountain. The only part of the Tourney that was enjoyable so far was the failed bet between Littlefinger and Renly, one that Littlefinger lost a lot of money from. I wasn't stupid though, Loras was smart enough to know that the Mountain's mare was in heat. But still, there is no one I hate more than Littlefinger.

I was relieved when we arrived back in Kingslanding; it's surprisingly boring not having the Game of Thrones to play. Especially with whispers of the new Hand already sticking his nose in other people's business. I knew it was Baelish; Lysa Arryn was completely in love with him and would do  _anything_ to please him. The stupid woman couldn't see he was still in love with her sister. 

But regardless, she had thankfully left the city immediately, as was defiantly not being missed. Neither would her sickly son, who she spoiled dearly. Nothing was more annoying than that spoilt boy moaning and crying to his mother. Tommen was more well behaved than the little Robert and he was half his age. 

But nothing was more annoying than my  _darling_ sisters complaining about their wolves. One had run off, one had been killed. I didn't even have one in the first place, yet that didn't seem to bother them even though I was somewhat a Stark. So for now, I usually sat in the gardens or the Library, putting my mind at work with a good book. Every now and then, when Myrcella didn't have lessons, she would come to the gardens and get me to do her hair. The beautiful blonde silk was lovely to run your fingers through, so I wasn't complaining. Neither was I complaining about the jealous looks my sister would give me when she saw how friendly I was with Myrcella. 

Arya was a far too rebellious for my liking. At first I admired her, but then turned to dislike her after the events that happened involving her, Joffrey and a butcher's boy. I knew Joffrey was lying, but never the less - I despised that wolf with all my being.

I was headed to Cersei's chamber, after a servant had come to notify me. What could she possibly want in the middle of a sunny afternoon? Probably someone intelligent to talk to, knowing her and her prejudice attitude. But as I approached the door, I heard the familiar voice of Joffrey from inside the chamber. I stood outside the door, ignoring the Hound's glare from further down the hallway. 

"So you agree? The Stark's are enemies," I heard Joffrey ask.

"Anyone who isn't us is an enemy," said Cersei, reassuring her clingy son. I pushed the door open and shut it behind me quickly, before turning around with a smirking face.

"I hope that doesn't include me," I said sarcastically.

"Of course not, you are one of us," she said, her face turning into a warm smile. Joffrey smirked, kissing my cheek lightly before walking out. I turned back to Cersei once the door was shut, giving her a curious look.

"What do you need, Cersei? I can see that troublesome look on your face," I asked suspiciously.

"My spies have told me that Ned Stark is investigating the death of Jon Arryn. I had nothing to do with it, of course. But he seems to be investigating what information Jon Arryn had that  _caused_ his death..." she muttered fearfully.

"You mean... you and Jaime?" I asked, my eyes widening.

"Yes. Robert would have us all killed if he found out..."

"He won't," I assured her, "I'll go have a little chat with  _Eddard._ " Her worry soon vanished, her expression now replaced by a smirk. She knew how my  _little chats_ went down, especially the ones with Littlefinger. How I loathed that man. He was a cunning little shit obsessed with whores and Catelyn Stark. I didn't miss the look he gave my  _dear_ sister at the tourney. Not surprising seeing as she's practically a replica of her mother.

I headed out of the chamber, heading to the Tower of the Hand. The winding staircases spiralled upwards, looking out over the city. Mine looked in the opposite direction of that sea of waste that left a permanent smell throughout the city. The ocean stretched for thousands of miles from my view, the pleasant smell of sea salt filling my chamber. 

I could see far more Stark than Lannister guards by the time I had reached the top of the tower. Most of which gave me suspicious looks; my little birds had told me that the guards thought I had changed into a Lannister. They were right to think that.

I walked up to the entrance, walking in on the Hand and his  _stupid daughters_ having lunch. As usual, the two girls were bickering about some unimportant subject while the Septa tried to calm them. 

"Lord Stark," I said, my voice loud and clear. The bickering immediately stopped, the girls staring wide eyed at me as I glared at them.

"Septa, take the girls to their lessons please," he said, obviously trying to spare them the drama that would come. They reluctantly left the room, despite Arya's protest. He stood up and turned to me, giving me that glum Stark stare.

"Lyarra. What can I help you with?"

"Spare me the false curtsies, Lord Stark." His look immediately darkened, his eyes turning stern.

"I am your father -"

"You stopped being my father the day you sent me off to Kingslanding to  _become a Lady_ and  _be warden to the King._ "

"I was asked to -"

"You could've said no, but you didn't. No need to regret it though, I like it far better here. I have a real family. Cersei, Jaime, Tyrion, Myrcella, Tommen, Joffrey -"

"Why did the King not choose you to marry the Prince? You are the oldest Stark girl." 

"Because he hates Lannisters. I'm a Lannister in all ways but blood."

"You are a Stark!"

"By nothing but my blood and name! I may have been born in the north, but I was raised in the south!" He shut up after my outburst, staring at me in disbelief.

"Why did you come?" he asked suspiciously.

"Little birds have mine have told me that you've been snooping around Kingslanding. Visiting Robert's bastards and a whorehouse. Plan to have another Jon do you?"

"You are but a child, you do not understand the ways of the world -"

"I was raised in the pit of snakes as a master of the Game of Thrones. I am more safe in this city than you. I am smart enough to know that someone is  _always_ listening,  _always_  following and  _always_ reporting back to whomever gave them gold. In Kingslanding we do not think of honour and justice; we think of what will gain us power, what will give us riches and what will  _keep us alive._ You're walking on a very thin ice. One misstep and it will shatter."

"Why? Because I know Jon Arryn was poisoned?" he asked. I seethed in fury, knowing I would burst in a matter of seconds.

"The information that you are searching for killed Jon Arryn. I'd stop looking before it kills you, your children and your  _bitch_ of a wife!" I exclaimed, before storming out and walking fast down the stares, ignoring the look the Stark guards gave me. I headed to find Sansa, have a  _little chat_ with her too. Assuming she was with her Septa in the balcony's by the sea, I headed straight there. To my delight, I was correct. But to my digust and jealousy, I had walked in on her and Joffrey kissing. 

No one touches  _my_  Joffrey.


	4. Revenge is as Sweet as Blood

I left the room, neither Joffrey or Sansa noticed. But that guards certainly noticed my seething as I stormed passed them, glaring as they dared to glance at me. I pulled up my dress, storming down the corridors, heading to my chambers in utter fury.  _Oh, how Sansa would pay._

Fortunately, I hadn't encountered anyone on the way. The servants  _loved_ to gossip about Highborns and Royals, especially me. This was due to the fact it had been blatantly obvious since the day I arrived as a young girl in Kingslanding, the Prince hadn't taken his eyes off me. Well, clearly until I walked in on him  _kissing_  my sister. Sansa surely wouldn't be the only one receiving punishment for her actions; Joffrey was going to get it worse. Depending on what you would define as  _worse._

I knew how to play with his heart; cause him pain and frustration. I had done it so many times before, due to his relentlessly whining and attitude he gave whenever he didn't get  _what he wanted_  from me. If that wasn't obvious enough: he wanted to fuck me. But, unfortunately for him, I'd put it as bluntly as I could. I would only do so in our wedding bed,  _not that we were getting married._

I let the sad thought leave my mind, focusing on my revenge plot I would plan so perfectly that the little bitch would know it was me but have no evidence on it. It was my speciality, getting blood on my hands without any proof of it. A number of servants had thought it was funny to  _gossip_ many  _rude_ things about me over the years... most of them died quite mysterious deaths. But, of course I had nothing to do with it.

I wasn't quite sure how exactly this plan would play out, but I knew it wouldn't happen immediately. Karma's always served best when people least expect it. Especially naive pathetic northern girls who couldn't see what the world actually was: a game. If Sansa knew what she was doing, she would treat me with the upmost respect. I rewarded my little friends who did so,  _especially_ my little birds, who pretended to serve others but actually told their other employees what I wanted them to know. Littlefinger was my favourite victim, seeing as I despised the man with all my being. Varys, however, was much smarter at playing the game - not that I had to worry about him. He hired  _different_ sorts of birds, mine being much less obvious but much... higher born.

And as I pushed open my chamber door, one of them stood before me, in a suit of golden armour and an annoying smirk on his face.

"Jaime, what can I do for you?" I asked, trying to calm myself down from my raging moment.

"I was sent here by Joffrey to fetch you, but I see someone's not in a very good mood," he teased.

"No, I'm not. Go tell Joffrey I'm not a servant who answers to his calls!" I exclaimed, once again working myself up. Jaime raised his eyebrows, before stalking out and leaving me alone. I screamed in fury, smashing a small statue of a gold lion into the wall, not that it seemed to affect it in any way, causing not a scratch. 

Hatred ran through my veins, bottling it up inside hadn't helped over the years. Hatred usually directed at specific people. My parents, who sent me away as a small child, writing nothing but pathetic and meaningless letters to me. My siblings, who got a perfect and innocent upbringing, far away from secrets and lies. The list goes on and on; and perhaps I sounded jealous of everyones perfect life. But, there was one reason I never regretted anything;  _Joffrey._

He was mine,  _all mine._ And that 'innocent' little bitch was trying to dig her claws into him. Whether Joffrey was playing her or not, it felt like a stab in the heart when I watched them. I couldn't quite believe he would've gone that far. He had only ever kissed  _me._ The one who so obviously deserved him more. 

I was the eldest Stark girl, therefore I should marry the Prince. But the King doesn't like me, which I know deep down was the reason I wasn't marrying him.  _Warden's shouldn't marry the Prince my ass._ Did he  _really_ think he was going to get away with that? All I know is that Sansa Stark and Joffrey Baratheon won't be the only ones facing something dreadful, either now or in the future. For revenge is sweet; as _blood._

I knew what had to happen. Joffrey would only be able to marry me if  _he_  was the King. This meant Robert Baratheon would have to die; which would be an extremely dangerous task. I would get killed for this if anyone found out, but I knew it  _had_ to be done. 

So I went searching for Cersei, knowing she would be the best person to pull off an assassination. She possessed a burning hatred for him even I could not rival. The sour look on her face whenever he entered her presence was definitely unpleasant, especially if he had a whore on his lap. Up until now, I hadn't quite understood that hatred,  _embarrassment._ Until I saw Joffrey with Sansa, awakening something  _dark_ inside of me. 

Little did I know that Cersei would desperately need him dead. As I found her in the gardens, standing across from Ned Stark, who she stared in a somewhat form of  _fear_ at. I quickly hid behind a pillar, listening to the conversation between the two.

"Your brother? Or your lover?" I heard my father ask, my face paling at the comment.  _Joffrey will never be King if this gets out._ I could hear a tense silence between the two, with nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the background.

"Targaryen's wed brother and sister for three hundred years to keep the bloodlines pure," replied Cersei, "Jaime and I are more than brother and sister, we shared a womb, came into this world together,  _we belong together._ "

"My son saw you with him," he replied, a darkness in his voice.  _So he knew it all._

"Do you love your children?"

"With all my heart," he responded quickly.

"No more than I love mine. Two sons and two daughters, the most important things in the world to me," she replied.

"You have one daughter -"

"Oh, but I have two. Lyarra stopped being your daughter a  _long_ time ago. She's mine now, and there's nothing you can do about it," she smirked. But he decided to ignore her comment, moving onto the subject at matter.

"They're all Jaime's," he stated. She laughed in reply.

"Thank to gods! In the rare event that Robert leaves his whores long enough to stumble drunk into my bed I finish him off in  _other_ ways. In the morning he doesn't remember -"

"You've always hated him."

"Hated him? I  _worshipped_ him! Every girl in the seven kingdoms dreamed of him but he was mine by oath. And when I finally saw him on our wedding day in the Sept of Baelor, lean and fierce and black bearded, it was the happiest moment of my life. Then that night, he crawled on top of me, stinking of wine, and did what little he could do. And whispered in my ear,  _Lyanna._ Your sister was a corpse and I was a living girl and he  _loved_ her more than me."

I had heard that tale many times. It's what held my upmost sympathy for her. Robert was still in love with my aunt, even to this day. Little did he know how  _stupid_ he really was. It didn't take me long to figure out the true parentage of my so called 'bastard brother'. I would bet anything that Lyanna wasn't even kidnapped in the first place, and ran away with Rhaegar, leading to the fall of the Targaryen dynasty and Cersei's new hell.

"When the King returns from his hunt, I'll tell him the truth. You must be gone by then; you and your children. I will not have their blood on my hands. Go as far away as you can, with as many men as you can. Because wherever you go, Robert's wrath will follow you."

"And what of my wrath Lord Stark? You should've taken the realm for yourself. Jaime told me about the day Kingslanding fell, he was sitting in the iron throne and  _you_ made him give it up. All you needed to do was climb the steps yourself; such a sad mistake," she taunted.

"I've made many mistakes in my life, but that wasn't one of them-"

"Oh, but it was. When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die. There is no middle ground," she said, preparing to walk away. 

"My biggest mistake wasn't not taking the throne; it was sending my daughter away to live with  _Lannisters-"_

"My daughter, Lord Stark.  _My daughter._ "


	5. The Boy King

Cheers erupted through the crowd, the commoners expressing their excitement at the sight they had just seen. It wasn't often that they got to witness a Royal execution, especially the execution of someone so noble. Little did they know how  _stupid_ Joffrey had been to kill my father.

I didn't care about my father, although I should. But I sure as hell care about the bloody war with the North to come. Robb wouldn't come and swear his fealty now, he wouldn't have anyway, due to the... reputation of Starks with Mad Kings.  _The little prick should've just sent him across the narrow sea._ I tried not to think so low of the man I hated to love, but it was hard when he was such a psychotic idiot. 

I stood beside Cersei with a emotionless face. I didn't want to look happy, but nor did I want to look pissed. Sansa however, had thrown up before fainting. Arya had gone missing, her  _dancing_ master having died to let her escape. I didn't particularly care, but I knew she was a vital weapon against the Starks. 

I exited the stage with Cersei, trying not to let my fury show. I could tell she felt the same, her passive aggressive face failing to hide. She knew that this was beginning of a war with the North, one that would be long and full of bloodshed. If Joffrey thought he was getting  _anything_ after kissing my sister, he was very stupid. Especially after his latest fuck-up.

Thankfully, I reached my chambers undisturbed. Cersei had given me a knowing look before we parted ways, our opinions not leaving our mouths as little birds hiding in the bushes watched us. I was very good at spotting them.

Unfortunately, the peace and quiet of my chamber was abruptly disturbed by Joffrey, who had once again walked in unannounced and without permission. He had the same smug smirk plastered across his face, obviously pleased with himself for being a psychopath.

"You've been ignoring me, Lyarra. Aren't you please your father is dead?" he asked, far more serious than he was when he sauntered in. 

"You just started a war with the North. Of course I'm not  _pleased,_ " I sneered.

"Robb Stark wouldn't  _dare_ defy me, now that he knows what I can do," he chuckled sadistically.

"Only a shit King isn't scared of his enemies," I smirked. He was very taken aback, anger starting to seep through his veins.

"How  _dare -_ "

"Yes, I  _dare._ Now leave," I interrupted, once again smirking at his enraged figure. 

"Why have you been ignoring me?" he snarled, gritting his teeth.

"I haven't been ignoring you, just avoiding you."

"Why? I didn't do  _anything!"_

"Nothing except kissing  _her,"_ I spat, grabbing his boyish figure by the collar of his shirt and slamming him up against the stone walls. His eyed widened in fear for a split second, until he began to smirk.

"You're  _jealous!_ " he grinned - more like smirked - at my cold expression.

"Of  _course_ I'm jealous!" I spat in his face. He scrunched up his face as it hit him, before wiping his face with one hand, attempting to slap me with the other. Thankfully, after him having tried to slap me many times, I had perfected the art of snatching his arm right before my face, before pulling it backwards into a painful position.

"Ah!" he hissed loudly as I twisted his hand back. I let him go after a few seconds, which resulted in him immediately cradling his arm.

"You never learn, do you?" I teased cruelly, "Don't mess with me."

"I only kissed her to get her on my side -"

"Well she's not on your side anymore, seeing as you sliced off her father's head. Even if he deserved it," I exclaimed. Thankfully, my room was completely 'bird proof' from anyone with prying ears. The door was also the thickest in the castle, so little eavesdroppers couldn't hear a word.

"You know I don't want her, I want you," he said, pulling a pathetic 'puppy' face, begging for me to let him go.

"Then don't  _kiss_ my sister, no matter the excuse," I hissed. "And if you want me, you're going to have to marry me." 

***

Joffrey's coronation was approaching. No matter how pissed off I was at the piece of shit, I had to attend. Thankfully, a hunt had been arranged for after the event; a hunt that I would be allowed to attend. My mind was  _begging_ for me to get blood on my hands, it being far to long since I got to watch something wither in pain below me, human or not. Call me sadistic, but monsters are real and they look like humans.

Unfortunately, killing was far more enjoyable with Joffrey, who always came up with rather  _creative_ ways of doing things. Not to mention how psychotically the situation could get when we kissed each other, covered in blood with the taste on our lips. 

Joffrey and I were still not on good terms, and the whole castle seemed to know about it. But I had put my time into distracting myself with other things, particularly the  _sweet and darling_ Sansa Stark. Not so sweet anymore now that her father was a traitor. Of course, my blood relation to Ned Stark had not changed anything - Cersei made sure of that. And Sansa's chamber was exactly where she was.

"Still grieving? What will happen when Robb does something stupid?" I taunted at the figure who was staring at me through the reflection in the mirror.

"Father wasn't the traitor. You are," she said,  _trying_ to sound intimidating.

"Watch out. We wouldn't watch your dearly beloved to overhear you," I teased, a smirk appearing on my face. 

"You're such a bitch!" she exclaimed, trying not to let her pathetic tears fall.

"You call me a bitch like it's a bad thing."


End file.
